


Disasterous Decisions

by kadysmitten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Avada Kedavra, Battle of Hogwarts, Duelling, Gen, Good Slytherins, Slytherin, Slytherin Common Room, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin OC - Freeform, Slytherin Pride, War, fight, the Slytherin who stayed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 14:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadysmitten/pseuds/kadysmitten
Summary: When the students of Hogwarts are given the choice to stay and fight or evacuate before The Battle of Hogwarts, it is noted that none of the Slytherin students stayed to fight. But while they may not have remained in the Great Hall, that does not mean that they refused to battle for Hogwarts. Join Leigh, a seventh year Slytherin who has to make the difficult choice between her life and the school that raised her





	Disasterous Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> This world and characters belongs to JK Rowlings, but I felt like this point of view was something that needed to be written.

Leigh had to reach up and rub her eyes, trying to banish the sleep induced blur she was still in. She had only been asleep for an hour when she had been yanked out of her bed and informed that she was needed in the Great Hall. They all were. Leigh had tried to object. Finals were just around the corner and she was exhausted both mentally and physically from studying. But there were no excuses to miss apparently, for everyone from first years to seventh years huddled together as they made their way to the Great Hall. 

The Slytherins were met with whispers, and Leigh was well aware of the fact that they were the last house to arrive in the Great Hall, despite the close proximity of their Common Room. The other houses already seemed way more alert than her sleep glazed housemates, none of whom had wanted to be dragged out of bed. Rumors of the reasoning for their summons were already flying, and Leigh heard quite a few in the walk to her normal seat at their table. She was not sure what to believe. Just across the small aisle way between their tables, a Ravenclaw girl was claiming she had seen Harry Potter in the hallway. 

The idea was ridiculous. With everything that had happened within the last year, Harry Potter would not show up at Hogwarts. He wasn’t that stupid was he? Leigh looked up to the head table, waiting for the truth. She would not entertain silly rumors, not when it was nearly midnight and she was aggravated at having been woken from her slumber. The sight that met her was not what she was expecting, for she expected Headmaster Snape to be the one standing before them, waiting to inform them of the reasoning for their abrupt and rude awakening. He was nowhere to be seen. His normal seat at the head table was vacant and instead, Professor McGonagall stood before them, her eyes scanning them as she waited for everyone to settle. 

The sound of the woman clearing her throat was all it took for the four tables to fall into silence and look up at her, the whispered rumors dying out as she began to speak. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was outside of their castle, his army of Death Eaters waiting to launch an attack. Leigh sat up a little straighter, continuously searching the head table as if what she saw there would change. Headmaster Snape was not there. He had fled. To Lord Voldemort’s army? Leigh was not afraid of the name, having heard her brothers and father refer to the Dark Lord all her life. Everyone knew that Headmaster Snape was in league with Lord Voldemort, but for him to abandon Hogwarts and join the Dark Lord in an attack on their school… Leigh struggled to believe it. As harsh as Snape had been as a teacher, he had been her head of house for the majority of her life at Hogwarts and she had spoken to him privately multiple times. He was harsh and difficult and often acted like a complete git, but she had seen those looks of approval when she had performed well and exceeded past what he had ever expected. She had heard his high remarks for some of the students he treated like shit in class. She knew that he was not only the professor that downgraded the students at every possibility. 

But Professor McGonagall did not seem to be lying as she continued her speech, letting them know that they were not expected to stay and fight when Voldemort broke through their doors. They would be evacuated, their Prefects in charge of leading them to the evacuation point. Leigh looked to the girl who sat next to her, a sixth year prefect who simply shrugged, having not been personally informed of anything more than Leigh herself had. But what if they wanted to stay and fight?

Leigh raised her gaze in disbelief, staring across the hall as Ernie Macmillan stood from the Hufflepuff table and elicited a scattered applause from the surrounding students. Idiot! Leigh shouted the word at him in her mind. He would have to be a right idiot to think he stood any chance against Lord Voldemort! Against the most terrifying Dark Lord they had seen in centuries. Leigh had dueled Ernie once, a few years prior, and he would have to have improved tenfold to even have a chance of defending himself against the weakest of death eaters! No, they would be escorted to safety as quickly as possible, with none of their possessions or animals. They would all leave, if they had any sense of self preservation! 

Leigh stared at the head table once more, as if Snape would have materialized while she was distracted by her idiotic classmates. But he did not, and as the prefect beside her questioned his presence, Leigh held her breath. Done a bunk. He had fled. The other three tables rose in celebration, as if Headmaster Snape’s absence was the best thing that had happened to them. Leigh just stared, her mouth slightly agape. What. The. Fuck. Leigh barely heard as Professor McGonagall began to inform them of the protection they had already placed around their castle and the importance of their speedy evacuation. She was too distracted, the murmurs of the students beside her, all equally as stunned. 

The room shifted in half a second as Professor McGonagall’s voice was cut off, overtaken by a loud voice that came from nowhere. Screams of students erupted and Leigh instinctively stood, ready to fight an invisible enemy if she had to. There was no one present though, no one physical. The cold voice had no source, simply reverberating through the entire room. A shiver ran up her spine, as if Lord Voldemort himself was standing behind her and whispering the words down her neck. The voice repeated Leigh’s earlier thoughts. They could not fight him. He would kill them all. He claimed he did not want to, that he respected their teachers and their magical blood. The silence fell heavy throughout the room, the air choking Leigh as she stared blankly forward, too scared to move. 

“Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry potter, and you will be rewarded.” No one dared speak. During McGonagall’s speech, she had announced that Harry Potter was indeed in the building, that the young Ravenclaw girl had been right. Leigh had not fully understood how serious she was until that moment, when Lord Voldemort’s voice slithered out that they only had until midnight. Midnight. Less than an hour away. Leigh’s gaze followed everyone else’s to the stationary figure on the opposite side of the hall. He seemed so small from this distance, his dark hair a messy mop atop his head, his scar not even visible from this distance. He looked so… Fragile. 

Pansy Parkinson shot out of her seat across from Leigh and threw her arm forward, pointing at the boy they had known since they were eleven years old. “But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!” Pansy shouted out, her voice shaking slightly. Pansy, who had always stepped forward to be the self proclaimed leader of their year’s Slytherin girls, was absolutely terrified. Leigh had never played along with Pansy’s pranks and had teased the girl’s infatuation for Draco, but throughout their entire seven years together, Leigh had never seen her hand shake like that or hear that slight quiver in her voice. Not even when Draco had found himself in the hospital wing in their fourth year. 

No one else seemed to register the fear that laced those words though, the way the words had spilled out of her mouth without even a second hesitation. She had never been Harry Potter’s biggest fan, too busy doting on Malfoy and following his hatred for the boy who lived, but even Leigh knew that she was not harsh enough to want their classmate dead. They had grown up with Harry Potter, watched him since they were eleven and complained in their rooms at night about how everyone acted like he was so cool when he was just another one of them, untrained and unpolished before he stepped foot into Hogwarts. 

Pansy was an idiot, but she was driven out of fear. And while Leigh was certain that there were scatterings of other people within the hall that had that same fear, that had probably even thought the same exact thing before Pansy had spoken, every single student that stood between them and Harry Potter stood at his defense. The Ravenclaws stood right before them, blocking the rest of the students from their view as the students closest to them raised their wands, as if ready to curse Pansy if she even made the slightest move. The entire Slytherin table would be under attack if any of them even reached for their wand. 

Leigh just sat there, staring at the line that had erupted behind her. She made eye contact with one of the girls who had rose her wand, a light haired fourth year who did not show a single ounce of fear as she glared right back at Leigh. Her gaze was filled with hatred, as if Leigh was the one that had spoken against Harry Potter, or if she was in league with Lord Voldemort. The look this fourth year was giving her was filled with so much hatred that it could be mistaken that she thought Leigh herself was just as bad as Lord Voldemort. Hell, the young girl probably did. 

Leigh felt sick to her stomach. Her mind spun as Professor McGonagall spoke. Even her voice did not break the tension as she informed Pansy that she could see her way out of the Great Hall and follow Mr. Filch to the evacuation point along with the rest of the Slytherins. Leigh stood instinctively, following the rest of her house out of the hall, the children from Ravenclaw only a few steps behind them. 

Pansy practically ran ahead of them after snapping out that she would be the first to leave Hogwarts and that she never wanted to return. Millicent just scoffed beside Leigh, muttering that fighting with Lord Voldemort was smarter than running away like a coward. Leigh stopped walking then, her feet refusing to move forward. “Leigh?” Tracey Davis spoke her name quietly, the simple urge clear behind the words. Tracey had been Leigh’s closest friend within the last seven years, often bouncing between following Pansy and Leigh. She was quieter than the rest of them, a half-blood like Millicent but the first in her family to have ever been sorted into Slytherin. She reached out to grab Leigh’s arm, but Leigh took a step back, removing herself from the stampede of students trying to evacuate. 

“I can’t,” Leigh informed the girl, pressing her back against the wall. Pansy was running away, as far and fast as she could. It was the smart decision. Leigh knew that it was the smart decision, that it was the right decision. But Millicent… The larger girl had already dissipated into the crowd, hurrying behind Pansy. Leigh had no doubt in her mind that Millicent would be one of the students who found her way out of the castle with the rest of the students like she was supposed to, but would not apparate home. Millicent would find her way to Lord Voldemort’s side, joining her parents like she always claimed she would. “I’m not going to run.”

Not away from the school that had cultivated her magic within the last seven years and crafted her into one of the best duelers they had ever seen. She was not going to run away from the teachers and classmates that had been beside her since she was an awkward eleven year old who had been thrown on her ass within the first week when she had tried to duel a fourth year. Not when she had been able to beat that same fourth year only three years later. 

Tracey nodded and made her way through the crowd to stand by Leigh’s side, her chin raised. Where Leigh went, Tracey would follow. Tracey had no ties to the Dark Lord, no reason to follow Pansy in an escape or Millicent to the enemy’s side. Tracey had a little brother in Hufflepuff. She had a close relationship with their divination professor. She had loved every moment at Hogwarts, even when Pansy was complaining that she was dull and had no skill. No skills other than making wicked potions in the shortest time possible. Tracey had never been a leader, not like Pansy or Draco and not even like Leigh, who kept her knowledge secret until necessary. Tracey was more reserved, but she would follow her beliefs as long as she had an ally. All it had taken was Leigh stepping back for Tracey to jump on her thought and follow her classmate. They would not let Hogwarts fall without a battle. 

Just as a young Gryffindor bumped into them, brushing tears from his face as he hurried to the evacuation point, they heard a loud crash echoing through the hall. The boy squealed and charged on, clinging to his scarf as he sprinted after the rest of the students. Their time to evacuate was over and Lord Voldemort was attacking. Midnight had already fallen upon them and the Battle of Hogwarts had begun. Leigh did not even spare a glance at Tracey as she shot forward, darting through the rest of the Gryffindor students who were making their way to the evacuation point. They had already climbed sets of stairs and the battle was far below them, but Tracey and Leigh crossed the distance quickly. 

And just in time. “Confringo!” Leigh was shouting the incantation before she could even decide which spell to cast, her wand moving with her words. She was a witch and a damn good one. She had trained and dueled for years, to the point where she did not need to stop and think her spells through. The moment her mind was made up, in the spur of the moment, the words formed on her lips and her arms followed the movements, the flicks of the wrists and the slashes through the air. She was a well oiled machine who had been made to battle. She had been made to lead an army. 

Flames flew out of her wand towards the man in front of her, making him turn his focus on her. He was not quick enough, having been too distracted by his prey, who Tracey was currently running towards. Flames engulfed the man’s cloak, only rising higher as he spun to look at her. His eyes were a deep grey as they connected with hers, the expression on his face terrifying. He looked happy, as if he was a lion enjoying a hunt. He was mad, completely and utterly mad. Leigh felt rage boil up in her. He had been enjoying the hunt. As much as Voldemort had claimed he had not wanted to spill magical blood, the same could not be said for his followers. 

This man had not been aiming for Harry Potter or any of the teachers protecting him. He had cornered two girls dressed in blue night robes. Two girls who could not be older than thirteen, one who clung to a teddy bear like it was her life line. He had cornered two girls who were completely defenseless against him. One of the girls may have had her wand raised when Leigh had burst into the corridor, but her training was so minimal that it would have been impossible for her to hold her own against a seasoned death eater, especially since her wand arm had been shaking so violently that she probably would not have even been able to cast the simplest spell correctly. 

Leigh would never forget that man’s deep grey eyes with his untamed glee filled gaze. She would never outlive the memory of his cloak surrounding him in flames, the way he danced towards her as if he could not even feel the heat against his skin. She would never forget that look as he raised his wand hand, ready to cast whatever spell he had been brewing for the two third years. “Avada Kedavra!” The words flew out of Leigh’s mouth as she threw herself into the spell, letting the fury that had burned inside of her flow through her arm and out through her wand.

Nausea replaced the fury as the green light shot from her wand, cutting off whatever spell the man had been about to cast. Leigh had never felt so much anger in the moments she had before casting that spell, and the moment it was cast she was left exhausted, drained from the emotion and the force of one of the unforgivable curses. 

“We have to go,” Leigh called, looking at Tracey only briefly before leading the way. Tracey had given her a nod and grabbed the two girls, making sure to keep them in front of her. Leigh was the leader and Tracey stood at their tail, the two young girls safe between them. As safe as they could be in the middle of the battle. 

“You just- you killed him!” One of the girls squeaked out, her voice high pitched and breathless as she scurried after Leigh. “You used an unforgivable curse!”

Leigh ignored the girl’s words as she turned a corner, making sure the stairway was clear before darting down it before the other three girls. She had used an unforgivable curse. The worst one yet. She had cast the killing curse. It was the one spell that made sure to win a duel no matter what, for the opponent could not fight if they were dead. Learning that curse had been one of the hardest tasks of her last seven years. She had first seen it in action only three years prior, when Professor Moody had shown it to them. They were not supposed to have learned the unforgivable curses until they were in their sixth year, once they had passed their OWL’s and proven they were able to master such advanced magic. Professor Moody had thought the fourteen year olds capable of the knowledge though, having gone far enough to even privately tutor the Slytherins when they had gone to him. 

Leigh had felt sick when she first saw the curse, watching a spider cease its movements as if it had simply fallen asleep in the blink of an eye. Even as she, Pansy, Millicent and Daphne had curled around a table and listened intently to their professor teach them, she had constantly felt her stomach turn. Leigh had joined them for the knowledge, the need to know the inner workings of the curse and her constant drive to learn every spell possible. She had practiced on insects alongside her classmates until she had learned how to successfully kill the spider that was placed in front of her, but she had never enjoyed it. She had never liked the darkness that had to consume her in order to sentence something to death. Tracey had not even attended with them, and Leigh could not blame her. 

“And that is the reason you’re alive,” Leigh heard Tracey inform the girl, just loud enough for it to be heard. Her voice was soft and Leigh could feel the girl’s eyes searing into her back, watching her carefully before she slipped around another corner. Tracey knew how taxing that curse was, had seen Leigh expel the contents of her stomach multiple times when they were fourteen and she was trying to perfect it. She had needed to be perfect with every spell she had cast, even when it tore her body apart. 

But Leigh could not focus on the nausea that was rolling through her body. If she let her mind focus on that feeling, she would curl over and vomit. No, she was forcing herself to ignore it and focus on the adrenaline that shot her legs forward. She focused on the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room as she shouted out the password that unlocked the tunnel into their common room. 

Leigh had expected the room to be vacant. Surely there was no one else stupid enough to run back into the fight like she had. Surely none of the other Slytherin students were as stupid as the girls behind her and had tried to return to their dorm rooms to get any personal belongings. The Slytherin house was intelligent. They were smart. Fighting in this war was the opposite of smart. 

But Leigh and Tracey were not alone. The moment Leigh shot through the tunnel into the common room, her wand flew out of her hand, charmed away from her. She skid to a halt and threw her arms out, taking half a step back. She stumbled as one of the young girls crashed into her back, but she was able to balance herself with one foot stepping forward and her arms moving back to make sure the girl did not proceed farther into the room. Leigh was working on instincts. Protect the children behind her. Fight. Analyze. Her gaze locked on the girl before her, whose wand was raised and had just cast the disarming charm. 

“Aurelia?” Leigh spoke the girl’s name cautiously, curious as to why the girl stood before her. Leigh knew Aurelia, for she was the sixth year prefect that sat next to Leigh in the common room. She was almost as good as Leigh was at dueling, just shy of seventeen and as intelligent as they come. She was stealthy and had mastered silent spells quicker than even Leigh had, thus why Leigh had not even had any warning when the girl had cast the disarming spell. “Why are you here?” Surely Aurelia was not one of the Slytherin students who had entered the castle with the Dark Lord’s army. But Leigh finally allowed her eyes to stray past Aurelia, down the stairs and farther into the common room. 

“What?” the word escaped Leigh’s lips as she stood straighter, letting her arms drop to her side as she took another step forward. She moved closer to Aurelia and the stairs that led into their common room. Below, the room was filled with light, the fireplace ablaze and children huddled together. Reds. Blues. Yellows. Students Leigh had never even seen and students she knew were certainly not from Slytherin. Students who were just like the two young girls behind her. 

“You’ve secured the common room.” Leigh stated matter of factly, looking over towards the younger girl. Aurelia had a grin on her face as she nodded and confirmed Leigh’s statement. She went on to explain that the first thing she had done when the Slytherins had left the Great Hall was slip down into the dungeons and back into their common room. To both of their surprise, Aurelia was not the only Slytherin with the same idea. When the fighting had broken out, multiple of her housemates had herded into their common room with the younger houses children, those who had either run back to their common rooms to retrieve items despite the warning not to, or those who had fallen behind and not made the evacuation in time. Apparently shortly after Leigh and Tracey had left, one of the hallways that led to the evacuation point had exploded and cut off too many student. Many students who were now seeing the Slytherin Common room for the first time. 

“I didn’t expect you to come back,” Aurelia spoke quietly to Leigh as Tracey set up the two young girls by the fire, draping a blanket over their shoulders, “Especially with two Hufflepuffs.” She let out a small chuckle and when Leigh shot her a confused look, the girl just shrugged. “You know everyone thinks your family is in league with Him right?”

Leigh was shocked at that. No, she did not know that. She had experienced her own doubts growing up, when her older brother had spoken so casually about Lord Voldemort or when her father would mutter at the dinner table that the Dark Lord actually made a lot of sense. But one of her other brothers would always mention how Lord Voldemort’s methods were not the smartest and her fears ebbed away. Her family did not agree with how Lord Voldemort conducted his business and surely, surely, her family would never support the attack of Hogwarts, a school that every single one of them had attended and grown up in. 

“No, I didn’t.” Leigh informed the girl, watching Tracey move to another group of children. This was where Travey belonged, holding down the Common Room and protecting the younger students, some who cried into their classmates shoulders, others who clung to their wands and muttered to themselves. “Take care of them, okay?” Leigh gave Aurelia one last look before she turned and left the Slytherin common room. There were enough people there to keep them safe. If she saw any other younger students on her way, she would send them down to the Slytherin common room. Screw the secrecy and the passwords and secret tunnel that had been protected for centuries. 

They were in the middle of a war, where the archaic rules of Hogwarts no longer applied. Hogwarts was no longer safe, no longer impenetrable. They were not Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. They were not students fighting for house points and competing for the quidditch cup. They were Hogwarts and Voldemort. And she had chosen the side she would fight for. She had chosen to fight for Harry Potter, who had been a scrawny boy when she met him. She chose to fight for the boy who had defeated Lord Voldemort when he was eleven, who had saved that Weasley girl, who had won the triwizard tournament, started a damn club to teach students the spells they needed when their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had refused to. She would fight for the boy who had never looked twice at her, deeming her as just another Slytherin, assuming her to be one of Draco’s cronies. She would fight for the stupid idiotic Gryffindor, because he was just a kid, only seventeen like herself. He was just a stupid boy who made stupid decisions and got lucky.

She would fight because Hogwarts was her home, and without Hogwarts she never would have become the witch she was. 

So Leigh flung herself into the battle. She charged up the stairs and out of the dungeon, instantly greeted with battle. All around her, spells flew through the air, lights blasting around her. She had never seen anything like it, for it was not like a duel, where each person respected their opponent and faced off one against another. There were teachers fighting two death eaters at once, students who were standing back to back and casting spells in every direction. Leigh was stunned frozen for only a moment as she took in the scene before her, terror rising in her chest. 

A shot of light over her shoulder sent her moving, the spell having been so close that she could feel her cheek tingling. She had no clue where the spell had come from, who had even cast it. Had it been an enemy, a Death Eater who had chosen her out of the crowd and seen her alone, with no back up and no one fighting her. Had it been an enemy who had thought they could stun her before she had the chance to fire off a single spell? Or was it simply an accident, a spell that had missed its chosen target. How many spells soared past the person they were supposed to be for? How many of the bodies that littered the floor or the the injuries her classmates wore had been inflicted by one of their own by a spell gone wayward?

“Don’t think about it,” she commanded herself silently as she flung herself into the frey, positioning herself next to a Ravenclaw boy she had recognized as a sixth year. He had been fighting a death eater alone, but he did not object as she threw her own spells into the mix, helping to take down the man. They may have never spoken before, but they worked well together. They barely needed to talk as they dueled together, taking on Death Eaters one at a time. As soon as one fell, they raced forward to find another, to help someone who was outnumbered or obviously losing. They fought together until they found themselves faced with two Death Eaters who surrounded them. 

Leigh instantly put her back to the Ravenclaw boy and shot a spell forward at the Death Eater before her. She had stopped thinking and only moving. She had stopped processing how many people she fought, how many spells she used, and how many bodies she had left on the floor. She had lost count of the amount of unforgivable curses she had used. She was simply analyzing the situation, avoiding spells and casting her own, dancing with her enemies. 

“What are you doing here?” Leigh had just sent a spell towards the death eater when he responded, his voice harsh and dark, demanding an answer. It sent a shiver up her spine. Analyze. Attack. Don’t pay attention to who your enemy may be. Do not let their possible death affect you. Just fight. Leigh ignored the shiver that ran up her spine, the little voice in the back of her mind that told her that she knew the voice behind the mask. 

“Impedimenta!” She shouted out, throwing herself towards her enemy. It was not the smartest spell to use in that moment, but the little nagging voice had gotten her, leaked into her consciousness and sent the jinx before she could even contemplate it. It barely sent the Death Eater she was fighting backwards, for he simply staggered under the weight of it. What it did do though was knock the mask off his face and send his hood flying back. What it did do was reveal the tuffs of light brown hair that always spiked in random directions no matter how often he combed it. It allowed her to stare into the chocolate brown eyes that matched her own. 

“What are you doing here?” he questioned again, crouching down slightly as he watched her. She could hear the Ravenclaw boy behind her, throwing himself into his battle and countering spells constantly. She heard him moving while she stood still, her wand raised but shaking in her hand. No, her wand was not shaking, her whole arm was. She could not convince herself to send the next spell flying, her mouth refusing to form the words. She was like that little hufflepuff girl she had saved, wide eyed and terrified, her wand arm shaking. 

“Ginga?” the name came out in a squeak, the seventeen year old witch being reduced to a child then and there as she faced off with her oldest brother. When she was little, she had not been able to pronounce Gregory, instead shortening his name to Ginga. The name had stuck as she grew, becoming a nickname of endearment. It was obviously him, the man she had grown up with, but she just could not wrap her mind around it. Why was Ginga crouched in front of her with his wand drawn. Why did he look like he was ready to attack her?

He was a death eater. 

The answer was obvious, but she could not accept the truth, not even when it was right in front of her eyes. Ginga had taught her how to deul. He had practically raised them when their father was too busy with work to even come home to dinner. He had been the one to teach her how to fly when she was six years old. He had been the one who had given her his wand when she was only eight and stood behind her as he taught her basic spells. He was her older brother, who had always smiled at her with that stupid lopsided grin. 

When she had entered Hogwarts, the first thing she had done after her sorting was write him a letter, telling him that she had also gotten into Slytherin, just like he and their other brother had. She had written him letters at least once a month those first few years, keeping him informed on every single detail of her first year. She had told him how well she did in Defense Against the Dark Arts, how she had already known some of the spells they learned due to his teachings. He had been the first one she told when she got her ass handed to her in a duel with a fourth year and when she had managed to win a duel with a second year. 

Whenever Leigh had ever had a doubt, he had been the one to encourage her, to comfort her when their other brother, Declan, had teased her and told her she wasn’t worth the O’Rourke name. When Declan told her she was a disappointment, Gregory would remind her that she was not. He had reminded her to keep her chin up and never let anyone walk over her. When she had confessed to him that she did not believe she was actually fit to be a Slytherin, he had asked her why. He had told her she was ridiculous if she believed she did not deserve to be considered a Slytherin when she was one of the most ambitious people he had ever met. He reminded her that she was cunning, that she always had goals in her mind and would stop at nothing to achieve them. He reminded her that her worth could not be decided by Pansy, who had quickly become the leader of their house and year. 

Gregory had been the one person she could always count on, but now he was not grinning at her will that stupid lopsided smile that he always wore around her. Instead, he was looking at her as if waiting for her next move, calculating an enemy. He had never looked at her like this in her life, not even when they had dueled together. How was this her brother? How was this the same man she had written a letter to only a month before, telling him how she was uncertain about the spells she was learning in Dark Arts, spells that made her just as uncomfortable as the unforgivable curses. She had just gotten his reply back, where he had told her that she had always had such a strong idea of right and wrong, of him telling her she should put her best effort in to learn every spell she could. He had just written her to tell her that she was so smart and to keep her wits about her. 

Had he known then, when he wrote that letter, that he would be attacking Hogwarts now? Had he known that he would see her? No, by the look on his face, he had not expected to see her on the battlefield. He had expected her to escape. Not to travel to the Dark Lord’s side, but to evacuate and run from the battle. He had just complimented her on her sense of right and wrong. Or had it been a compliment? She had always questioned everyone's motive and words, but not Gregory’s. Never her brother, who had always been filled with compliments for her. Had all those compliments been real? Had that encouragement meant anything?

“Get out of here Leigh,” he growled, his wand still raised towards them. All around them spells flew in every direction, but the space between them had remained vacant. Her hands were still shaking and he was gripping his wand tightly. He did not want to attack her, just as much as she did not want to fight him. His words were practically a beg, willing her to drop her fight and run. He did not want her here, with the risk of death clouding their every movement. He did not want her in danger. 

And yet he held his stance. He continued to hold his wand at the ready, not willing to drop it. He would let her run if she chose to, but if she decided to continue fighting? What would he do then? Would he back off and let her win? Would he take a stunning spell just so that he would not have to fight her? Or would he throw spells right back at her, like he had when they were dueling. 

“I can’t,” she finally spoke, gripping her wand tighter. They knew each other so well, but as much as they had practiced dueling together, she had never expected to meet him like this. She had no idea how he would react when she threw forth a silencing spell, leaving him without his voice. The spell was pointless, just as the last spell she had thrown at him, but it did what it needed to do. With that one simple spell hitting him in the chest, he was no longer able to speak. It would not impact his ability to cast spells and throw curses at her, for he had been able to cast spells silently since he was fifteen. It may be more of a detriment, for she no longer had the ability to hear the spells he was casting before he threw them at her, but it was a risk she was willing to take. 

If he continued to talk, to question why she was there or urge her to leave, if she had to listen to him throw curses at him, she did not know if she would be able to continue the battle. She did not trust her heart to shut off completely and close her off from her pain and love for her brother if she had to hear those spells coming from his lips. Her heart had already broken when he had spoken her name in a plea. She would not be able to handle it again. 

So the two began their dance as enemies. She shut off her mind, her feelings and guilt. She steadied her hand and threw herself into the fight. She analyzed his every move and tried to predict what he would do next. She knew him so well that she could predict the moves he would make. It was the only reason she was able to step out of the way of a spell that would have lit her ablaze. She had been able to feel the flames licking her arm as the spell passed by her. She heard the Ravenclaw boy scream as it hit him instead. 

She felt the need to turn to him and help him in his fight. She knew the effects of that spell. She knew that his robes would be completely consumed by the fire, that it would distract him. She knew that the spell that had been meant for her could mean the death of the boy she had been fighting with since she had stepped foot into the room. But she could not turn from her brother, who was already throwing himself forward and launching another spell at her in the moment she had been distracted. The stinging jinx hit her right in the stomach and she flinched at the pain, grasping at her side with her free arm.

It hurt, more than she expected it to. It was not the first time Leigh had been on the wrong size of the stinging jinx and felt as it stabbed her. She had learned how to handle the pain, to push through it and continue to duel. Yet now, with her emotions high and the jinx stabbing her side, she felt tears spring to her eyes. It was more than the jinx that caused the pain. It was the caster. Gregory, who was analyzing her as just an enemy. She could see the pain in his eyes, the way he took way longer between spells than he should have. They had been slow dancing, but now there was no time. She could not let this go farther. 

So with tears rolling down her cheeks, Leigh brought forth all the pain, all the emotions that filled her. She let the fear and heartbreak and betrayal consume her. As she had done so many times in just that one night, Leigh used an unforgivable curse. The curciatus curse was almost as hard as the killing curse, taking so much emotion to perform it properly. You had to mean it. And she meant it. She was so angry at her brother in that moment, to the point where her tears were from the pain and frustration. She could not understand how he could go against Hogwarts. She was so angry that he had chosen Lord Voldemort over his own sister. He had chosen to attack the school that had raised him and his two siblings. She could not understand what made him do that, when she had chosen to lead the exact opposite path. How had she missed it?

Her brother withered in pain, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The silencing spell still held him captive, freezing his vocal chords, but she could see the pain on his face as he withered under her wand, crumpling from the pain. Hopefully he would pass out. She wanted him to pass out, to lose consciousness and be rendered unable to fight. She did not want him to die, but she did not want him to be able to harm her, her friends, or any of the people who fought around her for her school, for her classmates, for what was right. 

“Avada kedavra!”

Time slowed. Every second felt like an hour. The green light shot over her shoulder. She dropped the cruciatus curse and jerked away from the light. It had not been intended for her, but it had been so close to her cheek. She could feel the darkness emanating from it as it shot forward. She watched as it collided into her brother’s chest. She screamed. 

Leigh was running forward before her brother had even hit the floor. “Gregory!” she shouted his name, throwing herself atop him. “No!” she called out as she clung to his robes and threw her weight into him. “Gregory!” She had not wanted him dead. She had not wanted his heart to stop beating. She had wanted him to stop fighting. She had wanted him to see that he was fighting on the wrong side of the war. She wanted, so desperately, for him to tell her that he was wrong and that he should never have risen his wand against her. She wanted him to smile that crooked smile one last time, to tell her that she was his little Leigh who was a clever little snake. He wanted to hear him say that he was proud of her, that she did so well. She wanted him to be the brother she had known and loved. 

But he just stared at her blankly, his eyes immobile. His skin was still warm beneath her fingers, but there was no pulse through his veins. Her body shook with a sob as she spun, looking for the culprit. The Ravenclaw boy had not been brought down by her brother’s curse. He was left in night shorts alone, his robes having been incinerated, and his back was bright red and blistered from the flames that had hit him, but he was still alive, still fighting. The Death Eater was across from him, still firing spells at the Ravenclaw boy. Still fighting from a position that would have sent a wayward spell right over Leigh’s shoulder. 

“Avada Kedavra!” Leigh had no control over her body. The words tore from her lips with so much more intensity than they had only earlier that day. This was not a man who was attacking two innocent children. This was the man that had killed her older brother. It did not matter that Gregory had been more than willing to fight against her, had possibly been getting ready to cast the same spell she had. It did not matter that she would have been glad to see any other death eater that night taken down by a curse from one of their own. 

Ginga was her brother, and as much as it hurt to see him on the enemies side, she had not wanted him dead. Her body vibrated with the curse, draining every ounce of pain and suffering and hate from her body as it flew from her wand. She glared at the man through her tears as the light of green connected with his body. She did not remove her eyes as his body fell, frozen halfway through the spell he had been ready to cast. She did not take her eyes off of him until he lay restless on the ground, dead just as her brother was. 

The Ravenclaw boy was there then, grasping her arm and trying to yank her away. But she had drained herself with that spell, and when he tugged on her arm, she simply fell to her knees. “I can’t,” she whispered as the nausea finally peaked. She could not block out the pain or death. She could not block out the horrors she had seen. Leigh emptied her stomach on the floor, quivering as her body shook and heaved. 

She barely heard as Voldemort’s voice once more sounded throughout the hall, informing him that he values their bravery, that he was merciful, and commanded his forces to retreat. Leigh clung to the Ravenclaw boy as he dragged her to her feet. Around them, the remaining death eaters vanished, leaving them standing in the midst of the fallen. If she had not already emptied her stomach, she was sure she would have then. They had lost so many on both sides. 

Voldemort’s voice continued to rattle on, but Leigh did not hear what followed. She simply stared at her brother’s body as the Ravenclaw boy pulled her away. They both had wounds that needed to be treated, he told her. They were alive, he kept repeating over and over. 

Yeah, they had made it out alive, but Leigh felt dead inside.


End file.
